Editor's note: Earlier this week, Patty Calhoun had the brilliant idea to dispatch Jonathan Shikes to the Fainting Goat for his 40th birthday, which happens to be St. Patrick's day, which happens to be a day on which people like to get regrettably drunk. Shikes, for reasons unclear, took on the assignment without hesitation. These are the results. They are best read from the bottom up. Or not at all. Your call.
8:01 So, we were chased out by a blond who alleged that we called her a "whore," but frankly, I did not call any one any names. In fact, I wish to congratulate the bartender with 'stache for his professionalsim, and frankly, myself, for my own professionalism.
I drank. I am forty and I am better for it. Good night folks, and happy Saint Paddy's day!
7:24 car bomb,. gak., come on over. only th laidesw. mmmm. ladies.
7:13 This is guest blogger Joel. I just enjoyed a carbomb with Mr. Shikes. When I asked how many carbombs he'd had so far today, he reponded "blue." The bartender with a pornstar mustache seemed unusually grumpy when I ordered said carbombs. Sure, he's been serving drunken idiots like Shikes since 8 this morning, but still. It's freakin' St. Patty's Day, he's hanging out on a rooftop bar and he's apparently a porn star. He should be as happy-go-lucky as a leprechaun. If he wants the pot of tip gold and the end of my wallet rainbow, he better start doing some jigs. Did I mention he's a pornstar?
6:56 There has been a tragedy. Our stuff was deleted By a drunken woman we did not know. (She was overheard saying to her friends: "I feel really bad, but he was, like, forty. Who blogs when they're forty?") Please, for the love of god, stick with usk, as we restore our blogocity.
5:17 Tamale Malone. is my girlfriend. And that is okay. I feel like, maybe, I didn't ge her name right at first, but athat is okay,. becyuase she is really nice and she cooks me dinner and she thinks I'm the best guy around. So anyway, tamale malone. I am going to marry her.
4:57: OMG. I came for one birthday drink and I'm still here. Who doesn't love the Shikemeister? Maybe if his birthday wasn't on St. Patricks day it wouldn't have been as big a pull, but now, sitting on the roof of the Fainting Goat 4 hours later I am glad to have his birthday as an excuse. Yes, there are old boyfriends to contend with. Yes, I've run into Joel DeMuth from high school (a high point) , yes I may feel that it is time to surrender my car keys. But nothing is better than spending the day with a great pal and celebrating him. By the way, I don't know who stole the sparkle cream for Jesus, but I'm guessing their reward is in Heaven. Car Bombs away - Nancy Levine
From guest blogger Jared Jacang Maher:
So I've been here for at least an hour, despite knowing that lawyers and other allegedly important people are undoubtedly leaving messages on my voicemail now. But it is all worth it observing Shikes drunkenly opine to the women at the next table about his "butt" and how often he applies lotion to said butt. I've never seen this many of my co-workers lit by actual sunlight, as opposed to tubes that cast everyone's faces in a hideous, pale glow. And I have to say, it's like a goddamn Top Model audition up here, complete with a sexy, violent street riot. Seriously, in natural light, Sheehan looks like the most angelic Irish choirboy you've ever seen and has a singing voice to match. Tone resembles Marlon Brando-the-thin in On the Waterfront. Jay Vollmar, art director, just showed up! He appears to me as Mel Gibson in Bravehart. I know that's not Irish, technically, but fuck it. Close enough. Oh God, Shikes is getting ready to vomit Irish Car Bombs all over the keyboard. Run! BLAAGHHHHHEADHHKAHJDFDADFD!!!!!
4:25 tyupe and save baby, type and save. i'll tell you what. There are two kinds of peolple in this world: Those who celebrat their birthdays lamely, and those who are on Faceboook and get, like a millin oHBs from their peeps. Word up. Com on down to the Fainting Goat for some serious corn beef sliderss. Okay, but anywy, I just want to say that my boss is the best ever, and sent me here. So there. And also, I don't mind drinking beers.
4:12 Dr's report:
Jonathan has taken a turn for the worse. He now insists that he is fine so long as he remians standing and remains dancing. Tragically, he only has two dance moves--the lawnmower and the fall-down-on-the-floor-and-order-more-drinks. Also, he is now adamant about the fact that he will be living at the Goat from here on out, and will never leave. Luckily for those of us still hanging with him, he has an open tab and doesn't seem aware of the rounds arriving at the table on his card.
4:03 Alleged web editor here, reporting live from the Goat's rooftop bar, also known as my new cubicle. I thought everyone should know that Shikes is having a car bomb and struggling to pronounce "Shepard's Pie." That is all. If you are reading this, you should probably come by soon, before he falls off the roof.
3:44 -- jared had joined us. Problem is, all the chicks love him and hge is stealing them awayh from us. Okay, somebody'd cornbeer sliders are sitting on the bar uneaten, and I am thnking about eating them...
Again, from the guest blogger, Dr. Jason Sheehan.
You kn ow what sucks? The fact that we just paid twenty-two dollars to a complete stranger to go and get us Shamrock Shakes from McDonald's and you know what McDonald's doesn't serve anymore? Fucking Shamrock Shakes. Granted, it's been ten years or more since I've been to a McDonald's, but still... If there was one day out of the year where the clown ought to be pulling me some frosty and delicious Shamrock Shakes, it's St. Patty's day.
Patient's note: Jonathan is starting to weave a bit when he walks and tell off-color jokes about nuns. The experiment is proceeding nicely.
Okay, we are on the rooftop patio at the Fainting Gaot, and hter are a lot of people here. Drinks and women and goats. It si great. I am forty, and that is great.
My friend Brynn is here smoking and cigarette adn drinking a beer. Her uncle sho a bald freaking eagle way back in 67. But that is okay, because they were like Prairie dogs back gthen.
Okay... Who put the spooj in Jesus' hair?
okay all you whipper snappers....this is the bartender biatchhhh....where the hell is all of Jonathans' peeps and hoes??? He isn't drunk yet...but we are sparkly and ready for Jesus.........i love jonathan. I love tullamore dew.
My Friend Laura doesn't agree with my take on cheesesteaks (link here, not). You wouldn't put mayonaisse on your Thanksgiving turkey. You wouldn't put jelly on Jimmy Carter (the name of Laura's new punk band). But you CAN put mayonaisse on a turkey sandwich, and you CAN (AND SHOULD) put two nns and one s in teh word mayonaisse, btu also, You should put jelly on a pnut butter sandwich. should. So, in conclusion, you CAN put cheese on a cheesesteak. Steak. Cheese. okay on a sandwich.
Goddamit, why the hell do I have to write my own fuckin live blogs, Where the fuck are my interns. Goddamit. Is this a professional organization or what. Jesus H. Merry mothe andjoseph christmas. I refuse to FUSE TO PUT UP WITH HSI UNPROFESSIONAL ATMOSTPHERE ANY LONGERL. wHERE IS TEH WBE EDITOR. JESUS CRHIST.
So, for my birthday, I was broght a green cupcake with green boobs on it. Can you say inappropriate? I can't.
some people have given me food, and I think that is a good thing. There is some fish and chips up in here and corn beer and cabbage, and also, I think the girls here think I am really cute. Defintely. Also, Nancy smells good and loves me and bought me a car bomb. God knows, I needed one.
Guest blog from Dr. Jason Sheehan:
I have arrived at the Goat to check in on the patient and have found him to be in excellent physical condition and fine spirits. Five hours into the experiment and Jonathan has put down several beers, one shot, two Irish Car Bombs and, as yet, has only shown his underpants to the crowd once. He is certainly keeping up with his intake of liquids and my colleagues and I have high hopes that Jonathan will complete his experiment in a vertical orientation and with no lasting ill-effects.
However, he has started to speak in an unusual accent and talk to a small statue of a frowning Jesus set next to his computer. We will withold judgement on his mental state until later.
Dr. Jason Sheehan
guest blogger here, checking on the birthday boy. Jesus is now watching over him, in the form of a Lookin' Good for Jesus Redeem Your Reputation Fix-It Kit, which includes a handy statuette with a mirror -- in which Shikes can see just how aged he is beginning to look.
So, Ive been joined by many friends who allege that car bombs and guinness are a good way to celebrate a birhtdeay. Who am I to argue?
This from a guest bar blogger: Hey all, we're having a great time here in Denver!!! We're discussing social networking and demographics, the future of journalism, and politics. Woo!!! We have found out that the 18-25 age demographic isn't as brain-dead as previous thought. They may actually have some positive impact on this planet, but it's too early to tell. Thoughts?
The taste of whiskey reminds of how my grandpa used to smell, says my friend Deana. And frankly, we can't disagree. Just did a couple shots of tully more dew. The unfortunate part is that the guys spilled beer on my computer. Colleen just proposed to me.
Shit. I forgot to mention doing a car bomb. Or did I?????????
The girl next to me had a dream about a banshee last night. oddly, the guys on my right are talking Chupacabra. So we have some mythical character going on, and that is okay.
I am talking to two young ladies who have a lot of really good ideas about life and magazines and taboo subjects of which I can't get into because it would be inappropriate. Also, there is somebody staring at me inappropriately. Sadly, he is male.
Okay, beers are $1 now, but I am a smart man and ordered a 75 cent beer at 10:59. So, a friend of mine says Guinness is one of the least caloric beers made. He works for a company that works for Guinness, so he knows. I guess, I wouldnt know. I ve been drinking Bud Light.
So, I haven't given a shout out yet to Colleen (right), the gorgeoso bartendress here at teh Goat who bought me flowers and a birthday balloon when I got here. She rocks. Me and my friend Jason are going to shut down Broadway later and have a dance-off for her affections.
oKAY, so my timing is all off because I've had five beers, my computer clock is an hour behind and the guys sitting next to me are from New York, so they keep pretending its two hours later, which means it's afternoon there already. These guys were putting pancake in their syrup a few minutes ago, so you have to take everything they say with a grain of salt. Beers are now 75 cents each, now, by the way. Highway Robbert!!!!
So, there's a 24 year old dude next to me. He says, back when he was a kid (like six years ago), they only had seven kinds of lucky charm marshamallows. I said back when I was a kid, they only had the four leaf clover. Man, I am funny. Now they have like hourglasses and horseshoes and shooting stars and such.
I had a visit from my friend Alan. P. Pseudonym a few minutes ago. He brought jokes, Irish wisdom and conviviality.
Prices just went up to 50 cents here at the Fainting Goat. Thank god I managed to get my third 25 cent beer just under the wire. Plus, cup sizes went up, so I have that going for me.
My friend Dave is here enjoying an early morning St. Paddy's day beer as well. And now he just did an Irish Car Bomb. Damn. The crazy thing is that it was the second Irish Car Bomb that bar has witnessed this morning.
I've been focused on my Bud Light, which has a wonderful nuanced crispness this early in the morning -- especially with pancakes, bacon and extra syrup.
There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who drink beer and eat pancakes at 8 in the morning because it's St. Patrick's Day and also their 40th birthday. And those who don't.
I am a member of the first category.
Today, I turn 40. To celebrate, I am spending the day at the Fainting Goat, an excellent bar just a few steps away from Westword where they are serving 25 cent beers that go up 25 cents every hour from there. I've had two. Happy birthday to me.
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